


demons

by BlackRoseHunter



Series: in tongues - retrospective studies on the cancer crew [2]
Category: Cancer Crew, Filthy Frank Show - Fandom, Unholy Trinity (Youtube), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (also i typed all of the tags into the characters section are you proud of me yet?), (maybe ???), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Dark, Disability, Dreams and Nightmares, Drugs, Feelings, Gen, High School AU, Hurt, I COULDN'T HELP IT, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Illnesses, Intoxication, Introspection, LMAO, Language, Mental Health Issues, Pain, Panic, Past, Sad, Schizophrenia, Secrets, Self-Esteem, Substance Abuse, Teenagers, Tension, Trauma, alternate universe - normal world/no youtube, cool thanks, i'm a bad person okay, inspired by this one fic, is this enough tags for you yet?, lots of japanese so thanks internet for teaching me things, no references to youtube careers, other than joji's music, sorry i just love him so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoseHunter/pseuds/BlackRoseHunter
Summary: He used to be able to do this. Go out with Max and Ian and the guys and hang out and get wasted and then stumble home at one in the morning. Now he’s here, questioning his entire existence. Maybe he’s stoned because that’s how it feels, but he can tell that Max thinks otherwise because now he’s fully awake and can’t even care that his best friend got into a fight on the way home.Maybe it’s too late.





	demons

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i will not kiss you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882041) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> * * *
> 
> welcome back, guys. it’s been a while and i still haven’t edited interlude yet, which means that it’s time i started another project and left it half hanging in the void for a while before heading out to my local coffee shop and actually editing things because i can’t edit anywhere else apparently.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> i felt like writing some angsty, mentally-fucked-up shit for those of you who love joji as much as i do, especially because a work on here inspired me on how i could include some of the other ff personas. so here’s another heap of garbage to keep you entertained while i sob quietly on break in the middle of rehearsal.
> 
> WARNING: as i was writing this, i had an idea in mind to make it more of a surreal drug trip than what it was. this is kind of another projection of myself (sorry i sound so needy and gross but it’s true and it really scares me that i managed to write this, and at night no less) and my anxiety onto the world because i’m seriously fucked up right now. so if you get uncomfortable reading this at any point, leave now. i love you and care about you and am always here if you need it because i know. this was hard for me to come to grips with and i can always try to help. if you do make it through, you’re amazing anyway and i’m still here for you. but yeah. you’re always welcome to close the tab and come back later or never. i don’t care at all, i just needed to get this off my chest. and if you want to hear more into this and where it came from, i’ll consider typing up another doc and linking it somewhere for you to read if you want. anyway, i love you all and you mean the world to me, so thank you for reading.
> 
> * * *
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> * * *

It felt like he was underwater.

Not like he was swimming, but like he was submerged so fully and so utterly consumed that he couldn’t even begin to imagine what strength it would take to get out of this godforsaken pool. Like he was stuck, trapped down there with no help, but he couldn’t breathe and call for help because then he would die. If it helped, he would die anyway.

Suddenly he was there again with a stinging in his fingers, but he didn’t look away. It stared at him from across the room, holding contact with such menace that Joji wanted to curl up under his blankets and never come out again. Because that was the rule, wasn’t it? The more blankets you keep over your head, the less likely you are to get killed. If you can’t see it, it can’t see you.

It could see him no matter where he hid.

It was smarter than it looked. It was more than a black and white blob, less of a humanoid than the others, but human nonetheless. It knew where he was hiding and liked to wait patiently for him to give up and come out, only to go back into hiding and repeat the cycle until it got bored and left to bother some other innocent soul. It was actually trillions of years old, just as old as the gods that sewed its eyes shut to stop it and failed miserably. Some even believed that it was stronger than the gods who tried to stunt it. It probably was.

Joji was there again, fingers burning now. He dared a glance down and found ash littered over his hand from… something. He couldn’t tell if it was a cigarette or a blunt or something else entirely. He reached over and put it out in a half-empty cup of week-old tea sitting on his bedside table. As soon as he looked back from his reddening fingers, though, he was regretting, even more, the fact that he had looked away because it was gone and Joji was most certainly going to die this time for being so goddamn stupid.

He remembered looking it up somewhere - probably the library, because he hated the school computers and refused to use the one at home in case his parents found out he was getting worse but refused to do anything about it - and finding out that it was called “Chin-Chin”. The only thing worse than the thing itself was the name, because the name was so stupidly perfect for this disgusting creature that it almost made Joji laugh out loud.

He was back again. He seemed to do that a lot. Spacing out at inopportune moments.

There was a presence above him and suddenly he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to look up. He could smell it now, too, that disgusting, obscene mixture of faeces and blood and rotting fruit. Joji held still, hand still awkwardly bent into the old cup, back beginning to ache, legs cramping up. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head upward, as if praising the god so shrewdly poised above him.

It was there.

Joji closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to stare into those all-seeing eyes that Chin Chin bore, couldn’t manage more than a breath as the stench got worse and he decided that asphyxiation would be better than this awful fate.

It was gone.

The smell lingered for a moment, then vanished, signalling that it was gone. When Joji opened his eyes, there was nothing there. Just an old cup of tea and a burn on his fingers. Maybe he was high - that could explain it. Maybe that was a blunt and he just didn’t remember it, didn’t remember lighting it or smoking it or anything. He didn’t seem to remember a lot these days. Just… blips, sort of. He could remember bits and pieces of school and homework assignments and witty comments Max made at lunch about Basic’s shit choice in trading card games. But he barely remembered a full day since they got here and became more and more frequent.

He was startled back into reality from his daze by the buzzing of his phone next to the old tea. He could hear the sound of a car driving by outside his house as it blasted some shit music and probably woke up the remainder of the neighbourhood. It wasn’t that late for some - like him - but normal people with jobs and families and kids to wake up and feed in the morning probably didn’t appreciate it too much. He checked his phone and found a notification from SoundCloud about something he had uploaded two months ago. He deleted it without even checking it. Fuck whoever that was.

He was well awake and up now, so it was no use trying to actually get some sleep. Instead, he rolled over and over again until he was sitting at the edge of his mattress, legs tangled in his sheets. He stood up and removed the blankets from himself, then stumbled toward the bathroom. On the way there, a small, humanoid salamander-like creature made a soft noise at him and jammed a recorder up its nose to begin playing some haunting tune. Joji didn’t even pay attention - he had fallen asleep to that song hundreds of times now.

He slipped into the bathroom conjoined to his room and flipped the light on, momentarily blinding himself. An almost perfect replica of himself - only this time wearing glasses and muttering to himself in an odd, gravelly voice - sat on the toilet and only acknowledged Joji’s presence by mumbling something about “Pink Guy” and alerting the (goddamnit, Joji thought) pink man sitting in his shower. He groaned to himself and glanced at the mirror. He could see a black figure and those all-seeing eyes up the corner. When he turned, ready to go off and start screaming at them all to fuck off, it was gone again. He looked over at the man on the toilet and huffed at him, gaining his attention.

“Fuck off, faggot,” he sneered. Pink Guy gurgled from the shower and strummed on a ukulele. Joji left. He headed for the door in hopes of getting to the other upstairs bathroom.

In the hallway, he noticed two other figures sitting at the end near the stairs, brown and white and whispering in some odd language he could never quite make out. He flipped them off and walked the opposite way, pushing the door open and locking himself in when he found it empty. He refused to look into the mirror this time.

Joji turned the shower on and stripped, avoiding the mirror as he grabbed a towel and adjusted the water temperature before stepping in. He figured his parents were asleep and wouldn’t question why their schizo son was showering at one in the morning. He didn’t really do anything, just stood there under the water, hoping and praying to whatever kind gods would listen that this ridicule would end, but then the water ran cold and he certainly didn’t like that. He turned it off and grabbed the towel to dry himself, then wrapped it around his waist.

As he stepped out of the shower, the first thing Joji noticed was the lemon sitting on the counter. He stared at it for a moment, like he was waiting for it to grow a mouth and start talking or something. Then he closed his eyes, shook his head, and it was gone.

What the fuck.

He stepped out fully and turned, only to jump back in surprise and almost fall flat on his ass. A man, similar to Pink Guy, stood there, only this time his skin was red instead of a sickly Pepto-Bismol. Joji watched him for a long while, waiting for him to move, but he only stared back.

“まじで.”

“You need serious help, man.”

Joji almost wanted to hug this guy and give him an award, but then again, his sarcasm was understood by few and appreciated by far fewer. He sighed and turned around, trying to ignore the presence behind him and pulling his pajama pants back on. When he turned back around, Red Dick was standing next to that fucking lemon - Lemon Man - and still staring at Joji like he had grown a second head and needed to realise this. Joji flipped them both off and left them in the foggy bathroom.

Back in the hall, the Negi Generations seemed to be getting closer every time he looked away because they were close enough that he could make out random words that only confused him further. He observed them for a moment until once noticed and mumbled, “Banana poke to grab?”

Joji rolled his eyes and reentered his bedroom. Salamander Man had curled up, still clutching his recorder, in the corner and fallen asleep. It was almost cute and would be better if Frank and Pink Man weren’t talking rather loudly from his bathroom. He popped his head in and interrupted them with a glare, then slammed the door as loudly as he could without waking his parents up. When he turned around, he was again met with a surprise. This time, he wasn’t scared this time.

Safari Man sat on his bed with some porn magazine in his hands, grinning like a fucking idiot. Joji was done with this shit. He needed sleep. Badly. And he’ll be damned if this doesn’t stop right now.

“どいて.”

Safari Man glanced up at Joji with that same shit-eating grin and said, “オラマンコが大好きなんだハハハハ.” Joji glared at him for a moment, then repeated himself.

“どいて.”

Safari Man got up and moved to his desk chair, watching Joji as he studied his bed before mumbling, “screw it,” and curling up on top of the rumpled blanket and staring at the wall.

The commotion from the bathroom got louder as more voices joined in, until all Joji could hear was the shouts of Frank and someone else and grunts and moans from Pink Guy and the others. He continued to fixate on a spot on the wall, trying to pray they would leave. A filthy stench infiltrated the room again and settled back into a corner. Joji tried to ignore it, then pulled a pillow over his head. Fuck them.

No more than two minutes later, his phone rang. He had closed his eyes and wished the world away and had somewhat succeeded until he heard the buzzing. At first he ignored it, then startled when his phone vibrated its way off his bedside table and continued to ring on the floor, muffled by a stray shirt. He finally rolled over and flung an arm off the edge of the bed to retrieve it, noticing everyone had disappeared. Fine by him.

The caller ID read, “Massive Faggot,” so it must be important for him to be calling this late at night. However, Joji couldn’t be fucked. He finally picked up.

“What d’you want?”

There was a strange noise, like a groan and shuffling. He better not be fucking some guy in the ass right now or he was never going to see the light of day again.

“Hi, Joji. So listen. Do you know where I am right now?” Max asked. He sounded too cheerful for this to be good. There was some more shuffling.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at some party or somethin’?” Joji flopped back onto his bed, wishing he had that… whatever he was smoking back. It seemed to be wearing off and he needed something to occupy himself, even if his hand still stung from the burn whenever he moved it. He yawned out loud, signalling Max shouldn’t have called him. “Dude, what do you want?”

There was another groan. Seriously. What the fuck.

“I’m not at any party, now, Joji. I’m walking down the street with Ian hanging off me like a drunken schoolgirl. Y’know why?”

Joji waited. He wondered if Max wanted him to guess. He would literally shove his foot up Max’s ass if he was going to play these games while Salamander Man climbed out from under Joji’s bed and began to play his recorder sleepily from the floor.

“Ian got in a fucking fist fight!”

Joji rolled his eyes. He made contact with Safari Man, who was back on his desk chair again. Salamander man slithered over and curled up against Safari Man’s legs, then proceeded to begin rubbing his nipples. Joji bit back a curse. Then he remembered he was supposed to be talking to Max.

“マジかよ〜?”

“What?”

Joji didn’t know what language he had said that in. He hoped it was English but doubted it. Max could probably tell that Joji didn’t care all that much. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Ian was a violent drunk (Max was, too, but Joji wasn’t about to go pointing fingers when he wanted to strangle at least seven people every day of his life without being inebriated).

“Get him home or something so he doesn’t do any more stupid shit.”

“I’m trying. It’s not going too quickly.” Joji heard another groan, presumably Ian in his drunken, beat-up stupor. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment. The air smelled disgusting now. He flipped Chin Chin off and kept his eyes closed. He could hear the commotion rising in the bathroom again.

“Just, I dunno, get home. Do something. I’m going now.” Joji reached for the end call button and hit it before Max could say anything else.

“Faggots.”

“Shut the fuck up, cunt.”

“Nyeess…”

There was ukulele music from the bathroom once more and Salamander Man immediately jumped up and joined in, almost knocking Safari Man from his chair. Joji rolled over and replaced the pillow. He didn’t need to see or hear more than he had to.

“俺はおチンチンが大好きなんだよ …”

Joji literally wanted to kill all of them. He pushed the pillow further down onto his ear and started humming something to himself. He could faintly hear the commotion die down in the bathroom. He thanked the gods until the door slammed open (both doors? What the fuck.) and the Negi Generations and the bathroom party all crowded into his room. Joji squeezed his eyes shut even more and wished them all away.

“俺はおチンチンが大好きなんだよ …”

“‘Ore wa’ my asshole,” Joji growled. The smell got worse.

Joji turned onto his back and ignored Chin Chin who had settled into the corner nearest Joji’s bed, rather deciding to focus on the utter chaos his roo had turned into. He couldn’t even keep track of what was happening.

He was suddenly very scared.

Not in an adult sort of way, but in a childlike sense. He felt small and inadequate and like he couldn’t control his body and what it was doing to him. He was so terrified that he grabbed his phone and tried to open it but his fingerprint wouldn’t register so he had to manually type in his passcode but he was shaking so badly he couldn’t even do that right and he couldn’t call out because then his parents would be mad and everything too loud too loud too loud commotion and dancing and shouting and too many bodies too many things whirling around his mind his room and dear lord make it stop make it stop make it stop he can’t do this not now please just help make them go away this isn’t what was supposed to happen but if his parents find out they’ll get mad because why won’t he take his meds he could die he could harm himself he could hurt his friends he could kill himself but if he did he would just make it all go away and end this whole problem because there was no fixing what was already broken and and and and and-

Stillness.

Everything stopped.

Joji sat on his bed, phone squeezed so tightly in his whitening knuckles that it hurt. He was shaking so badly he thought he might be having a seizure but he was still conscious so that wasn’t the case. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. The chaos was gone. This stink was gone. It was all gone.

He wondered if he had died.

Were his eyes open?

No. Joji opened his eyes, bit by bit, just to make sure it was safe to do so. Finally, he relaxed his face and let his phone fall to his side. He uncurled himself from the tight ball he had wrapped his limbs up in and tried to stop trembling so badly. His face felt wet and he couldn’t tell if he was sweating or crying. There was a brief moment where he made the decision to shove his feet under the blanket just in case, and then he felt better. He closed his eyes again, muscle unclenching and back straightening.

Something touched his face.

Joji froze again.

That something felt like a hand. Fingers, soft fingers, touched his face. Stroked his cheek. Brushed away tears and calmed him down. The owner of the hand didn’t say anything. Joji hoped it was his mom here to protect him from them. He opened his eyes.

It was not his mother.

The hand was so soft, though.

Pink Guy sat on the edge of his bed, smiling down at him gently. Joji whimpered, turned his head away. Closed his eyes again.

Go away go away go away go away go away go away-

He opened his eyes again and found his mom sitting where Pink Guy had been sitting. She whispered something he couldn’t hear and placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face toward her. She wiped more tears away, fresh again. Joji closed his eyes, thanked the gods, felt so much love for his mom at this moment.

Joji opened his eyes again and he was alone.

So so so so so alone.

He repeated those words he thought back to himself.

“So alone, so alone, so alone, so alone, so so so so so…”

The stench came back, strong this time.

Joji closed his eyes.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

“Please, no.”

He opened his eyes. Watched everything happen in slow motion.

Salamander Man climbed into Safari Man’s lap on his desk chair. Filthy Frank and Pink guy slowly settled down onto a pile of dirty laundry. Red Dick leaned against a wall and watched the scene unfold while Lemon Man sat in a corner, seemingly asleep. The Negi Generations all slunk out of the room and closed the door soundlessly. The smell went away again. Fake Frank and Kōhe lumbered into his closet. The others all calmed down and either left or curled up as if to sleep.

Joji wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was beautiful and terrifying in a sense. Like watching water close over your head as you succumb to your fate. Like he wasn’t trying to swim or go anywhere. Just sinking further and further down, and that was okay.

It felt like he was underwater.

**Author's Note:**

> so. that’s over now.
> 
> honestly, idk how to feel about this. i loved the idea of exploring different perspectives and writing about a really messed up joji, but honestly, that was deep. i’ve never written anything like this before so idk how it turned out and what i’ll think of it in the next few weeks, but it’s here. i’ll be editing formatting and links and all that shit tomorrow when i have the energy to think about html bullshit, but for now i’m just uploading this so i know what i want in life.
> 
> so yeah. if you made it this far, thank you and i hope i didn’t mess you up too badly with that one part. if you reading the bottoms note before the fic, why? if you skipped the shitty parts and came here instead, i love you all the same and i don’t mind if you. i needed to get this off my chest and into cyberspace, so yeah.
> 
> thanks so much for reading and hopefully you enjoyed because i certainly did.


End file.
